I Want To Hold Your Hand
by HedwigBlack
Summary: Katie doesn't like her hands touched. Charlie finally asks her why.


For the Romance Slice of the Chinese Moon Festival

Also for the OTP Boot Camp Challenge with the prompt: fear

* * *

Katie hugs her cloak tighter around her body as she heads down the almost deserted street. Charlie walks next to her, but the bitter February wind doesn't bother him; it's worse back in Romania. He notices her shiver and throws an arm around her.

"Where are we going?" he asks. He doesn't really mind the walk, but he doesn't recognize this street and Katie seems to be on a mission. It's something he's noticed in the short time he's known her; when she decides she wants something, she gets it and she is not easily distracted.

She quickens her pace and he lengthens his stride to keep up.

"Coffee," she says through chattering teeth. "Need coffee."

Charlie smirks. "You always need coffee."

He pulls away slightly and reaches down for her hand, but as usual he is unsuccessful. She immediately makes a fist before putting an arm around his waist. She's trying to use the cold as an excuse, but Charlie knows better. He figured it out weeks ago: she doesn't like her hands touched.

At first, Charlie had thought he was imagining things. He's always been told he has an overactive imagination and that paired with the trademark Weasley curiosity can get anybody in trouble. But no matter how many times he tries to hold Katie's hand, she finds a way to avoid it.

It's not as though she doesn't like him touching her _at all_. She's got his arm around her, for Merlin's sake. And seeing her so uncomfortable now is making it difficult for Charlie to restrain himself from asking because he _has_ to know.

He stops abruptly and whirls her around to face him. She sucks in her breath because she knows what he's thinking and he can see her mind working to think up a story, an excuse, an argument. He rubs her shoulders in an attempt to get her to relax. It doesn't work, but that doesn't bother him. He doesn't really expect her to. He slides his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists and then he stops. He's pushing boundaries and he's not so sure what she'll do if he goes too far. Up until now, he hasn't really wanted to find out. Even now, as he rubs circles over her pulse points with his thumbs, he proceeds with caution.

She won't look him in the eye and that's what frustrates him the most. Because she's scared, and the last thing he wants is for her to be afraid of him.

"Why…" he begins but she cuts him off.

"Don't. Just don't." She takes a step back and he follows her, not allowing her to create distance between them. He keeps a loose hold on her wrists, not wanting to frighten her.

"Do they hurt?"

She furrows her brow in confusion. "Do what hurt?"

"Your hands," he responds. "Is that why you don't like me to touch them?"

"I…" She sighs because she knows there's no sense in lying. He'll be able to tell. He can always tell. "No. They don't hurt. They tingle when it snows. And I can't feel my pinkies. But they don't hurt." She finally meets his eyes and there's a defiant spark he's never seen before. Even though she's obviously pissed off, he kind of likes it.

"I can't feel my right pinky," he says. He holds up his hand. "Dragon bite. They're poisonous, you know." It's a pathetic excuse for a peace offering. But it's something.

She shakes her head and smiles in spite of herself. "You're making that up," she accuses.  
"I'm serious! Can't feel a thing. Now, why won't you let me hold your hand?" He asks the question outright. Subtlety was never his strong suit and it doesn't seem appropriate here, anyway. When she doesn't answer, he starts to back away. "Is it because you don't like me and you don't want to tell me? I could go…" He turns on his heel and slowly begins to walk away.

Katie rolls her eyes. "Charlie! Get back here! You know that's not it."

He tries to keep the satisfied smile off his face as he turns back around. "Well?"

Katie crosses her arms against the cold and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "In my seventh year, I was Imperiused and at one point I touched a cursed necklace that put me in St. Mungo's for a while."

"I heard about that," Charlie said. "I didn't realize that was you."

"Yeah…well… I don't talk about it much." Katie smiles apologetically and holds out her hands face up. The thin scars stand out against the skin of her palms for him to observe. "It's not that I don't want to hold your hand, Charlie. It just reminds me of things I don't like to think about."

Charlie opens his mouth to make an apology of some sort but the words are lost on him when she wraps her arms around his neck. She whispers in his ear, and it sends chills up his spine. Every time. "Maybe, you can help me change that, eh?"

He kisses her forehead. "Absolutely. We'll start small." He holds up his pinky finger; the one he can't feel. She can see the remnants of two large puncture wounds on the side of his hand.

"I really did think you were joking," Katie laughs, but clumsily links her smallest finger with his. She can't feel it, and she can barely bend it on her own, but it's a start, and she's grateful.

Charlie shakes his head. "I never joke about dragon bites."

"And I never joke about coffee. Need caffeine now!" She practically drags him by his pinky finger to the shop down the street. And it's there that, after many, many, cups of coffee, she eventually lets him hold her hand.

* * *

The "She doesn't like her hands touched" bit was sort of inspired by a song lyric from Seatbelt Hands by listener. It's an awesome song about a woman who's really damaged and it's not exactly how I picture Katie, but that line really stuck out to me and reminded me of her.


End file.
